


Chasing control

by psychoticwhore



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoticwhore/pseuds/psychoticwhore
Summary: Picks up after ACOSF teaser.Nesta becoming her own bad bitch, growing independently and finding who she is.She needs independence to heal and a sense of identity. Inner circle didn't handle it right but this whole situation is just messy.This is about development people.Kisses L
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Chasing control

“You’re coming with me to the Illyrian mountains.”

Utter complete silence. It wasn’t poised as a question that leaves choice. It was a statement. Leaving a sense of finality and the expectance of obedience. The air heavy with people tensed in preparation, waiting for her to break.

Not out of concern and care for her. But to protect themselves and the people who matter in the room. The high lady of the night court. Who they thought she a threat to, her sister. She could sense the extensive ward encasing her person.

As Nesta sat there sitting on that couch in her unusually imperfect state of dress. In the elaborate study room of their palace home. Blinking dumbly at the Illyrian male who stood before her. 

With her whole body practically buzzing under her skin. The power in her veins screaming and banging on the walls of her conscious. LET ME FREE. LET ME FREE. 

But she still doesn’t relent. Punishing it through ignoring it into its very own prison. 

Nesta Acheron, the girl who was so cold and indifferent that not even a small smile was ever associated with the mere mention of her. Surprising everyone in the room. Started to laugh. 

It was a numbing sound. Beginning as a soft chuckle and rising in crescendo to harsh howl. It was so broken that it felt like it froze everyone in the room. Feyre’s face crumbled at it. Amren watched unblinkingly in a face unreadable. Rhysand looking in disgust and hate.

Cassian unable to look away, the hairs on his arms standing up. Realised in that the female who wears the face of the one he bled for. Was to die with together. And sworn promises upon her soul was gone. And that very last ember of hope completely put out.

And Nesta ever the masochist watched the whole thing. The way his shoulders drooped, and his eyes levelled to the floor. How his mouth pursed tight and jaw clenched. Where his armoured demeanour of witty smiles and light dimmed. 

She told herself that it was good. Let him believe that she is past saving. That there will never be a possibility. That she can’t have him. It was better this way. 

“Is something funny dear Nesta?”

Rhysand asked bringing her attention away from his brother. Appearing bored leaning against that marbled mantel in a relaxed manner. Her head tilted up showcasing her perfect posture and thin, swan neck and collarbones to study him. 

She always had a gift. Or a curse if you may. To be able to read people. Look at their tells, sense their true emotions and find the best ways she could rip into someone with barbed words. From their time fighting the war against Hybern. She has been able to wade through her sister’s mates very subtle displays of the depths of his person. 

He was trying to avert her. He wanted her to be distracted. For her to stop and see what she was up against. It was her time to smile. She basked in this sense of knowing. They were all looking at them now. Thinking she was completely mad. How she could sit here and challenge their high lord like this was beyond them.

“The irony.” Nesta’s voice a bitter-sweet frost. She rose in her chair. Walked towards him. Her steps deliberate and resounding. “To think you of all people would know. To have nothing in your control.” 

At her words his face hardened. Memories resurfaced of long sharp nails and biting red lips. Long red hair and eyes full of malice and hunger. Confined down deep with no one there to help. Alone and helpless. 

And just like that she was now staring at her youngest sister. Feyre winnowed in between Nesta and her mate. Teeth bared and angry at the reaction she has brought on Rhysand. Her tears dried and running on instincts to protect what is hers. Embarrassed even Nesta noticed. Feyre always underestimated her cruelty. She doesn’t know why I’m like this. Doesn’t understand why. 

“Nesta that is enough. You will go to the Illyrian Mountains with Cassian and that is final. This is for you to learn control, not lose it. This is entirely for your benefit. To heal and become better.”

She could almost roll her eyes at her sister’s words, but she was too angry. Her benefit? Hiding that this it is not them wanting her to stop ruining their perfect picture. Heal and become better? Like she was something to be fixed. An object that needed to spend a little time in the repair unit. 

The truth is what’s dead can’t be saved. Not everyone can magically come back to life. 

Hypocritical. 

How they sit on their thrones and act like they are the embodiment of normal and good. But no one is okay here. They are just better at pretending then her. The world went by in hazy and measured moments. As if it was all the same. Slowed down, almost stopped. And then the world picked up and ran away without her. And she was not ready. She was left waiting where time has left her broken. 

“So, you think forcing me to live with him is going to what? Make me “better”. As if this was a story book. Locking me up with a male in the hopes he liberates me from this state you believe is wrong. Is your perception of remedy that miniscule to think that I need someone? This is my life Feyre. Do you think it a necessity to become like you? I never asked for any of this. I helped you in the war. Opened my home to you. Believed your promises of protection.” 

She looked at Cassian. His eye twitched in guilt. 

“My body was stolen, and I was thrown into this unknown place. I nearly died, and I watched-.”  
She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t think about him. “If my way of coping is too hard for you then you can look away. Because this method of locking me up for my “benefit” didn’t work for you and we all know that.”

Feyre flinched.

Rhys snarled with his nostril flared. Magic poised to strike. 

Amren staring on in threat. 

Cassian stepping forward ready to intervene.

Azriel faded into the room with Elain. A small bag was in her younger sister’s hand that seemed to be filled with all her things. They were in her apartment. The shadow singer stepped slightly in front of Elain sensing the aroma of the room. 

Nesta found herself surrounded. Trapped as if she was an enemy. This is the moment that she realised she would never be one of them. She will always be the outsider. They had no purpose to bound each other together anymore. Didn’t share a home with them. She never had a home. She didn’t belong. 

They were scared. At her power. At her unpredictability. At her.

Looking at everyone in the room. The unfamiliarity and alienness of it all. She made her decision. Her mother always said to never stay in a place where she was not welcomed. She made a choice entirely her own. Which is all she wanted. She never wanted to hurt people. Even if it’s all she knew how to do sometimes. She wasn’t the nice and delicate sister. Or the brave and loving one. 

She was Nesta Archeron and she wanted to be free to be herself. 

Nesta tapped into that dormant, dark power for the first time since the battle with Hybern. 

And winnowed away.


End file.
